The Dream Factory

The Sound of Silence

The Sound of Silence

Elijah Lovecraft placed the clamshells over his ears with his thin fragile fingers, adjusted the music's volume and lent over the screen on his tiny desk.  

He studied the figures with concern. He'd sold three small pieces in the last six weeks, not nearly enough to pay this month's rent on the shop. 

He sat up and looked despondently at his dusty collection scattered around him. The cracked old skulls, tarnished yellow from all the years sitting undisturbed in the shop fronts display window. The multitude of rusted broken devices that lined the shelves, which, truth be known he had little idea as to their function. Then there was the ancient wardrobe which dominated the shop's floor. Too big for anyone to want to buy, he saw that now. 

Perhaps people didn't want these relics of bygone ages any longer. Maybe they, like he, had outgrown their usefulness. It was probably time he considered closing the business. 

His eye caught a shadowy figure by the entrance. A woman pressed her face against the window and knocked heavily on the door. 

'We're closed,' he mouthed silently over the sound of the music coming through his clams. 

She banged on the window and waved angrily at him. 

He sighed, turned off his music, slipped off his seat and shuffled across the cramped shop floor. 

'We're closed,' he said opening the door a crack. 

'I'm a customer,' she pushed past him, 'and there's something I'm interested in so you need to be open.' 

Elijah studied her for a moment. He wanted to ask her to leave him, to his figures, his thoughts and soothing music. Her long coat was of luxuriant pax wool pinned with an exquisite live crawler beetle which fluttered its amber wings in the shop lights. Her bulging purse was a unusual folded flower from the fields of Avalara.  

Maybe she was interested in something expensive.  

'Which piece would madam be wanting to examine?' he clasped his hands together and bowed low, momentarily displaying the top of his wrinkled head to her. 

'This piece, this would do as a centrepiece in my Salon. What is it?' 

'Madam has a fine eye. It's a wardrobe. From the Old World.' 

'A what?' 

'A wardrobe. Where they would keep their clothes for safety. To prevent them from being stolen.' He picked up a cloth and rubbed it quickly over the surface.  

She stood and gently ran her gloved hand over the blackened gnarled frame her fingers picking out the intricate carvings. 'What are these, the designs?' 

'They were found on the Old World back in the time this was made. The ivy's are twisting plants, things that grew from the earth. The carved heads are the faces of the wild beasts that roamed the streets. The men on animal's legs, drinking and playing pipes. They lived in the forests.' 

'I see.' She said doubtfully as she stood in front of its mirrored door and adjusted her hat. 'What is it made of?' 

'Wood madam.'  

'Wood? What's that? ' 

'Wood? The wardrobe, it was once a living thing. It was cut down and made by craftsmen into this unique piece, I think you'll find ....' 

'Yes, yes,' she interrupted him with an impatient wave of her arm. 'It would make a good talking point, I can see that. How much is it?' 

'In all my one hundred and forty years of collecting I've never seen a piece like it madam. It's uncommonly rare. I can assure you. It's six hundred crowns. Worth every crown.' He assured her with a smile. 

'Pah!' she cast a disparaging eye round his crowded shop. 'It's not worth that. I'll give you three hundred.' 

'But that is less than I paid for it,' Elijah looked visibly taken back. 

'Looking at the rest of this junk I think it's probably the only thing you've got of value in here. If you don't sell it to me I doubt you could pay this month rent. Am I right?' 

She was indeed. He reflected ruefully. 

'And what's inside? I'm not paying good money unless it's in tip top condition.' 

'As I said madam it is old. Very, very old.' He stepped forward, unlocked the door and swung it open. 

She peered inside. 'The floor is terribly stained and the back is marked.' She stepped in and ran her hand over the rear panelling. 

Elijah gave her a gentle push and closed the door behind her. 

'Did you just push me?' A muffled voice came from the wardrobe. 'Hello? Can you hear me? It's dark in here. Can you let me out please.' She banged hard on the inside of the door. 

Elijah shambled back to his table and placed the clams over his ears. 

'Can you let me out please?' Her voice was higher, shaky. 'What's that? There's something in here. Let me out. Now!' 

Elijah looked away from the shaking wardrobe, turned his music right up and studied his figures.  

 Words tumbled from his lips. 

 'Hello darkness my old friend 

I've come to talk to you again 

Because of vision softly creeping 

Left its seeds while I was sleeping.' 

 'Hmm hmm hmm.' 

When he'd finished he pottered over to his cupboard, pulled out a bucket, mop and bag and padded slowly back to the wardrobe. 

He opened the door and picked up the dress, hat and shoes and dropped them into the waste bag. Slipping the purse into his pocket he mopped up the thick layer of sticky goo off the floor. Then he went back to the cupboard and washed the bucket's contents down the drain.  

Back at his desk he tipped the contents of the purse out on his table. Two thousand crowns, enough to pay the rent for the next six months. He slid them into the top drawer and turned the screen off. 

He gently lifted his Jian bird's cage off its hook and peered paternally through the bars at the pair of cooing, one eyed, one winged birds nestling within.  

'The Old World, my little lovers, it must have been a remarkable place eh? Let's go to bed shall we?'

Elijah was obvious listening to Simon and Garfunkel's Sound of Silence -with its haunting lyrics a song you can imagine it still been listened to in hundreds if not thousands of years from now.